


The (Mis)adventures of the Dovahkiin and Her (Worried/Worrying) Companions.

by CescaLR



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Character Death, Crack, Gamer!Fic kind of, Gen, NPCs POVs, POV Alternating, POV Lydia, POV Outsider, Temporary Character Death, Very kind of, Wow crack, anyway, idek, idk - Freeform, so much of that, the resurrection command is useful, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 15:52:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16558691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CescaLR/pseuds/CescaLR
Summary: Crack ish view of Skyrim from NPCs point of views, as the Female Player-Dragonborn/Dovahkiin runs around, modding the shit out of everything, cheating, generally being a nuisance, and driving Lydia to bread.Uthgerd toasts to that. But then again, she toasts to most everything.





	1. Lydia i

**Author's Note:**

> cracccckkkkk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Returning to Whiterun.

The armour is admittedly nice but is both terrible and the wrong classification. Lydia refuses to wear it because she can make no use of it, but at least it's not what she'd had to wear when she first met her Thane, over half a decade ago. 

'Maids II' as the Dragonborn had called that series of events in her journal. 

Lydia shuddered at the memory. 

"Did you just..." Her Thane trailed off. "This fecking physics engine I swear to god. You're even glitching the hell out while standing still now!" The Dragonborn sounded like she was shaking her head, but stayed as still as ever. "Come on, Lyds. Let's get going."  

Follow me echoed in Lydia's head, and she could move again. That had been disconcerting the first few times, but Lydia was nothing if not calm and collected. She'd gotten used to it, as she had needed to. Being adaptable was required of her and so she would be such.  

"As you wish, my Thane," Lydia said, and followed at a respectable distance behind the woman.  

"You know you can call me by my actual name, right?" The Dragonborn asked. "Like, the 'My Thane' thing got old real fast..." She trailed off, and if the woman ever showed any expression Lydia was certain she'd be frowning off into the middle distance. "I guess they didn't program that into you, though, did they? I mean, you're no Codsworth, that's for sure." 

Lydia wisely didn't ask. She'd learned early on that her Thane didn't notice you talking unless a) you'd said that exact phrase before - and only specific phrases counted, Lydia might add - or b) she specifically interacted with you first.  

It was a good thing, Lydia figured because there would most certainly be more dead bodies lining Whiterun's streets if the Dragonborn heard some of the things Lydia has.  

At least Uthgerd remembers enough from the few times this Dragonborn has taken her across the country (and beyond; Lydia went to Elsweyr and Uthgard to all the cold places... at least her Thane understands her companions ideas of what a holiday should entail) to be able to commiserate over some bread about how absolutely insane her Thane was. Is.  

Privately, she terrifies Lydia. Only privately, of course.  

Lydia has learnt from the very best just how important a poker face is. If only because the woman gets dangerously suspicious of people with more personality than a brick.  

Most of the time.  

Lydia shuddered again. Some of the companions her Thane has taken alongside Lydia over the years... 

It is best not to think of them.  

"Keep up Lydia!" The Dragonborn taunted, running backwards but not running into anything.  

Sometimes Lydia thinks the Dragonborn has the ability to see behind herself without looking, but she doesn't dwell on the thought. It'd drive her mad.  

Regardless of this reminder of Lydia's most maddening internal crisis, her Thane turned back around, running at a speed Lydia and most other average people couldn't achieve so effortlessly. At least she's not sprinting.  

"I should reinstall ay-eff-tee," the Dragonborn said conversationally, yet also as if to herself.  

She did this a lot. Lydia kept herself quiet with bread.  

"I could have more than just you around, no offence or anything, and I could actually get you to put on that lovely armour I got specifically for you," her Thane pouted verbally.  

Lydia mentally sighed.  

"And yes I know it's not as good and it isn't heavy, but I need to be a higher level to get the perk that'll let me armour it up a bit more and improve it higher than your current steel. But until then, it'd be really nice if you could look somewhat appealing. I mean, I'm just saying. But I should probably get you a makeover mod, along with everyone else. I can't look at Uthgerd, it doesn't work. Her chin scares me." The Dragonborn would have frowned if she could, Lydia could tell.  

"And don't get me started on the male followers. Bletch!" The woman sounded disgusted. She probably was. Lydia herself couldn't see what she found wrong with people's appearance in Skyrim - but then, she kept on saying 'at least it's better than Oblivion' so once again... Lydia didn't ask.  

Oblivion. When did her Thane have the time to know what people look like on a plane of oblivion?  

No. Don't think about that. It'll just drive you to the bread again. Uthgerd already thinks you insane enough, Lydia, she thought to herself.  

At least they're almost back to Whiterun. She can see it over the plains, now, majestic as always.  

Her Thane made a sound that always spelt world-altering trouble.  

Lydia sighed. They'd had a calm last few days, so it couldn't have lasted - but by Talos, she wished it had.  

"I need to deal with that immediately," Her Thane said, verbally glowering at the city. "For a capital of a hold, and the trade centre of Skyrim, politically and economically powerful in its own right, Whiterun is both pathetic and worthless." She grumbled. Lydia bristled at the affront to her home but forced down any negative feelings towards her Thane that those words might have brought about.  

Her Thane ran on, towards their - current - home city, and Lydia breathed heavily with the effort of keeping relatively close behind.  

"Come on Lyds! We haven't got all day - oh my god, please stop being stuck on that rock." 

Lydia freed her boot from the space between the rock and the ledge that she had tripped into in her attempt to keep up with the Dragonborn.  

Lydia was tired. They hadn't stopped to rest in four days. Give her a break, please.  

"Look, look- I'll just -" the Thane of Whiterun and multiple other Holds huffed and started, as she called it, 'circle strafing' around Lydia at a decently large distance away from her.  

Lydia felt immediately antsy about being too far away to protect her Thane from attack, and once she'd freed herself from that blasted ground crevice moved quickly over to the Dragonborn  - perhaps a little close for comfort, but it was her job to shadow the woman and throw herself in the way of danger, so the closer she is when they're stationary, the safer they both are. 

"There you go," the Dragonborn sighed. "Man, I really need to get ay-eff-tee don't I?" She asked.  

"No, my Thane." Lydia sighed, well aware she wouldn't hear her. "Please don't." 

Ay-eff-tee is the thing that Lydia was pretty sure the Dragonborn used to control her companions actions and very personalities, and it was - Well. Lydia isn't one to say anything blatantly disparaging of her Thane, but it's not... Lydia does not appreciate being controlled in such a way, to put it lightly.  

Though it does avoid the pain of the resurrection ability her thane apparently has. Lydia cannot count how many times she has died over the years, but here Lydia is, blatantly not dead.  

It makes a woman question things. And fear Meridia's wrath, but that's beside the point. Lydia's just glad her Thane decided to do that particular Deadric Prince's request with that male hireling in the scaled armour. Lydia forgot his name. And whether or not he'd been wearing that originally.  

She hadn't really met him. Marcurio did, but he's in the Dragonborn's bad books for requiring her to pay again after dismissing him. Unlike Jenessa, who unnerves Lydia greatly in ways she won't say, at least not to her Thane, but does at least share Lydia's protective instincts towards the Dragonborn.  

On two things, they agree; she mustn't die and is probably insane.  

"I'm gonna go to sleep when we get there, then sell stuff in the morning so you can stop lugging around all that crap, just most of it, and then I'll dismiss you, quit, install ay-eff-tee, then go get Jen, and rehire you," the Dragonborn barreled on, her verbal barrage never-ending. Lydia tunes out often because her Thane rarely asked anything from her other than to wait, go there, follow, attack that, and hold this. 

It looked like today, she'll be doing more if that, and the only break she'd be getting is a bit of sleep and some time for bread while her Thane retrieves Jenessa.  

Great.  

"Home sweet home," The Dragonborn announced upon arrival at the hold capital. "Let's go sleep until midday tomorrow. And please don't watch me all night like last time, it's creepy."  

Duly noted. Lydia will only hold vigil for some of the night, then. 

It's not like she's going to sleep all 24 hours, after all. Only her Thane is capable of such on an empty stomach - without even being woken for a need to use the chamber pot.  

Also, Lydia needs to talk with Uthgerd about that vampire nest her Thane dragged her into. Again. For the umpteenth time. Her reasoning being that they 'should have respawned by now'.  

The woman drives Lydia crazy, and Uthgerd usually toasts to that.  

(Of course, Lydia only eats her bread. But the sentiment is appreciated, all the same.)

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapters, all crack. Please don't treat anything seriously, especially character death. The Dragonborn may mourn, but then she'll just reload or resurrect so it doesn't matter anyway. She's just a dumbass.


	2. Lydia ii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> none of these chapters are in order, I might add.

Lydia has been serving her Thane as housecarl for about a few days now, and, though she'd noticed a lot of rather odd - and worrying - behavioural patterns over that 72-ish hours (of non-stop action, she might add... Lydia is  _tired_ , though her Thane appears unaffected by the lack of rest, food, drink, or... any form of not rushing from one task to the next) none of them held a candle to  _this._

"My Thane," Lydia said, faux-calmly. "This is a  _mountain._ That boulder is taller than the both of us; I highly doubt we can climb it, especially without proper equipment."

Her Thane completely ignored her, but since she'd been doing that for three days straight Lydia wasn't surprised any longer - just offended. Lydia was only looking after the Dragonborn's best interests, after all; her safety, her happiness and well-being. And falling off of a mountain because you were attempting to  _jump_ your way up a  _sheer cliff face_ was detrimental to all of those things. And more. 

Certainly, it also didn't give confidence in the one who was attempting such a feat's intelligence or survival instincts. Or common sense. Or... well, anything, really.

"I read on the internet that this was possible," Her Thane groused to herself. "Come on, come on," She continued, then continued repeating this phrase to herself as she jumped. Lydia decided the woman was highly unlikely to actually manage much in the way of vertical movement upwards - the Dragonborn was indeed already sliding down the side of the mountain, seemingly oblivious to the danger in such an act but as the woman was barely more than Lydia's knees in height off of the ground anyway at this point, Lydia didn't interfere. She stood, patiently waiting, at the base of the mountain. Cliff. Whatever it was. Lydia hadn't properly been taught geological formations - she was a housecarl. Thwacking things with a mace or slicing them with a sword or stabbing them with a dagger were her specialities, as was bashing them over the head with a shield or a Warhammer. Lydia had been trained in all weapons, though she had a preference for sword and shield... something her Thane had promptly ignored.

What Lydia was supposed to do with a  _staff,_ she didn't know. Lydia had never been taught magic of any sort; like many of the Nords who knew of the collapse (or had been around long enough to remember it - there were few since it was quite a while back, but they exist all the same) her parents hadn't been very fond of mages. 

Lydia was impartial on that front. Living so close to the sea was not something she perceived as intelligent when the sea was many, many feet below you, and you had no harbour. Also, when said sea was temperamental at best... Lydia felt it was rather a smarter idea to cut your losses. 

But no matter. Lydia has a staff, a Warhammer, a dagger, her trusty steel armour, a slightly dented iron helmet, and a hunting bow she swore she'd sold to Elrindir the other week... the pesky thing must be cursed because she can never get rid of it. Her Thane had only appeared to notice it's presence among her things whenever Lydia had to resort to shooting arrows at their enemies (her Thane appeared to be attempting stealth, but in steel boots, Lydia's not sure what the woman's thinking) and at that point would complain about it loudly as Lydia was apparently 'supposed to tank them' or some such strangeness; the woman tended to plunge headfirst into the fray without much consideration at any given opportunity, so Lydia didn't know why she'd rather Lydia be in the midst of things than helping her at a distance, if she wanted that sort of dynamic - 

"Oi, Lydia!" She heard and looked up.

_How._

Her than appeared to be standing halfway up the mountain. The shout had been loud - well, she  _is_ the Dragonborn - but Lydia could only see the shape of the half-orc; she was much too far away for detail. 

Lydia did not like this. Not one bit. She sighed, because if her Thane was this insistent there must be some good reason for climbing a mountain this way instead of just finding a path up to the top or  _getting some actual climbing equipment so we don't fall to our deaths and Nirn is left to ruin since the Dragonborn isn't around to stop whatever is bringing those dragons **back**_ but Lydia shouldn't be thinking about that, because she doesn't want to get that reliance on mead her mother got when the war broke out. 

"I'm coming," Lydia returned, not nearly as earth-shakingly loudly, but tersely all the same, and started climbing. She didn't look down, but when she looked up from her concentrated glare at the stone, hoping that if she had any latent, unknown magical talent it would manifest now and simply carve a ladder into the mountain's sheer rock, Lydia gasped and nearly let go.

Her Thane was nowhere to be seen. 

Then Lydia blinked, and her Thane was right there, in front of her, blank-faced as ever. But she could just  _feel_ her scowling at her, more petulant than anything.

"I had to look up a summon command because of you," Her Thane groused, irritable as a child not given the Honey Nut Treat when they demanded one and instead handed a Boiled Creme Treat. 

"I apologise," Lydia said, automatically, but couldn't resist adding, "for  _inconveniencing_ you, My Thane." Because her Thane disappearing from sight and then having the gall to  _blame Lydia_ for any problems that had occurred over the last few minutes rankled more than just a little. 

"I really need to see if Nexus has anything for that," The woman said, "It's not yet been a year since the game came out, but there should be something, surely?" She asked. 

"I have no idea what you're talking about, my Thane," Lydia said, truthfully. Nexus? Game? Lydia isn't an imbecile, she knows what a game is, but she couldn't see what it had to do with her Thane looking for better magics with which to locate Lydia if Lydia ever lost the Dragonborn again. 

The idea that it was Lydia's fault for any of this seemed a little far-fetched, but Lydia supposes it is her job to keep an eye out. She resolves to do better at that from here on out because her Thane appears to care little for verbal assurances. Perhaps standing vigil would convince her of Lydia's loyalty?

"We'll be going back to Whiterun soon," The Thane barrelled on, a swift change in topics. She always sounded like she was talking to herself, but Lydia figured the woman had been alone for a long time. It would take her a while to figure out normal conversation, and Lydia was hopeful in that regard. Hopeful she would be of some help to her thane as a person, not just an asset to Whiterun politically; being the hold that has the  _dragonborn_ as a Thane really gets you points, Lydia is well aware. 

Well. Not with Ulfric's lot; 'Skyrim for the Nords', and all that. But still - they aren't the majority. The war is coming to a head, and soon, Lydia can tell. She's studied these things, read long and countless records on all the skirmishes and battles and wars over the eras, and Lydia can see the signs. 

"We've gotta sell all your shite," The Dragonborn continued. "Which is really  _my_ stuff that you're carrying because otherwise, I'd be over-encumbered - but still. Point being is I'm gonna go join up with the Empire for funsies and we'll see where that questline takes us."

Lydia privately thinks they should go meet the person who stole the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller from its place in Bleak Falls Barrow, but given how many things Lydia's not kept private that the Dragonborn (who  _still_ hasn't introduced herself by name, Lydia might add, and it's been  _three days,_ the other housecarls are laughing at her, surely, though to be fair it's not like they'd know... yet) 

Lydia doesn't make comment as her Thane spins around and they appear just outside of Whiterun a few seconds later. Lydia doesn't make comment as they sprint on over to just outside the first set of defences, and she doesn't make comment as they run into the hold capital, nor does she make comment as they run around said capital, selling every last bit of junk Lydia's had to haul around in various knapsacks over the last few days. 

Lydia is plainly refusing to carry around seven Warhammers. Ever again. 

Especially alongside three war-axes, a stupid amount of fur armour, and the various daggers her Thane has painstakingly rushed through the crafting process so they all come out a little... strange. Not to mention all the actual junk; wood, buckets, random ingredients that haven't been stored properly and Arcadia winces at when her Thane dumps them on her table, three knives and a ladle, and also - at one point - Lydia is told to wait while her Thane goes off to do something.

Lydia stands there, anxious and  _literally_ unable to move, which might truly be the cause of the anxiety (Lydia doesn't know what kind of compulsion her Thane has, and resolves to find spare minutes for asking around about it) but that doesn't matter right now, because her Thane comes out of the inn and immediately accosts Ysolda, who Lydia vaguely remembers asking the Dragonborn if she could help her out with some khajiit caravans, or something. It's been a long three days. Lydia doesn't quite recall. 

Anyway. Lydia didn't mention the gigantic mammoth tusk her Thane was holding as she accosted the poor woman and handed the thing over. Ysolda blinked and smiled, eyes a little shrewd, and Lydia reassessed her estimation of the ambitious young woman. 

She's a merchant through and through, it seems. One that doesn't mind dealing in things less than legal, such as obviously stolen mammoth tusks. When Lydia is called to follow rather imperiously by her Thane and the two of them enter the Bannered Mare, Lydia spots the missing tusk... or rather, where the tusk had previously been situated. Hulda narrows her eyes at them suspiciously, but her Thane must have improved her stealthy ways at some point because the woman seems suspicious of everyone in the room. 

"Did you see anyone take the mammoth tusk out of here?" She asks, but Lydia's Thane ignores the woman's words. Before she can be seen as rude, Lydia answers for her. "No, Hulda. It's likely the thief went out the back door," Lydia lies, clear of a guilty conscience. As a Housecarl, you are loyal to your Thane - regardless of their actions, so long as they don't cross any particularly heinous moral boundaries. 

Such as betraying Whiterun. Whiterun first, Thane second, yourself third, and then everyone else in the hold, and then the rest of Skyrim, and then the rest of the empire, and then the rest of the world. If your ability for compassion stretches that far... admittedly, Lydia's certainly doesn't. 

She cares about her people, her home, and her country. And that's as far as her compassion stretches because caring about your country doesn't mean caring about everyone in it. She doesn't much care for the Thalmor that took residence in many of the more influential holds, and she doesn't much care for the Stormcloaks. The destabilisation of her country is a problem, Lydia knows. It's not one she has much control over, however, so Lydia mostly ignores it. 

Mostly. 

"Let's go find a sword and skeleton in a pond, Lydia," Her Thane says, walking out of the building. Or, rather, walking to the door, pausing, closing the door, and then opening it again. She stands there for a few moments before fully opening the door and exiting, then shutting the door behind herself. 

Lydia sighs and follows. She doesn't do the same, because Lydia doesn't have some pathological distrust of exiting through an already open door - perhaps it's some superstition or another her Thane picked up from... wherever she hails from - but she does close it behind herself because that's simply courteous. It's cold out, and a strong enough wind (because the Divines know the weather can get strong here; Skyrim's climate is rather unforgiving) could throw open the door and blow out the candles, if not the hearth or cooking fires. 

Lydia catches up to her Thane as she exits Whiterun. Her Thane runs constantly, never walks, and it's tiring to keep up - but keep up she must.

"After we find that sword, it's off to Solitude, I think," Her Thane says. "So let's not loiter, since we don't want the guards to yell at us, do we?" She asks herself. Lydia can tell her Thane is asking herself this, because her Thane, over the last three days, has listened to exactly none of her input. Though they have at least had one proper conversation about how Thaneship and Housecarls work, but other than that - Nothing. It's rather disappointing, but nevermind that.

Lydia is here as a housecarl. It seems her Thane has decided that means  _'not as a friend'._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this one's a little more serious, but only because Lydia's not used to the insanity yet.

**Author's Note:**

> ;)


End file.
